


Broken Wings

by emileeeee



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drama, F/M, Protection, Revenge, Romance, Soulmates, True Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-25
Packaged: 2018-03-14 18:11:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3420578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emileeeee/pseuds/emileeeee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Detective Killian Jones has become disenchanted with his work on the anti-narcotics squad... that is until he takes a shine to the wayward Miss Swan...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A little something to get me through the hiatus... Killian Jones has thrown himself into his work since the death of his beloved brother. Emma Swan has a less-than-perfect life working in her boyfriend's dad's strip club to pay off her student loans so that she can finally be reunited with her son. Neither of them know what's missing in their lives... until it's not.

God, being an undercover agent could be _dull_ at times.

Killian Jones adjusted his grip on the newspaper he was supposed to be reading, letting his gaze drift ever-so-slightly over the top to survey the building he was sat not a hundred yards from. Any second now, some skinny youth (it was always a skinny youth) would make an appearance, laden down with tens of grams of coke, and Killian could bust him, and finally close the case on the drug ring he’d been working on for weeks.

But he was bloody taking his time with it.

He hadn’t always wanted to be a police officer. Once he’d had dreams of being a marine; as a kid his room had been brimming with pirate ships and flags with skull and crossbones on them, and he figured being a marine was kind of like being a real-life pirate. A pirate with honour, he always used to say, and Liam would laugh. _Captain Killian Jones_ , he liked the sound of that.

But then Liam got shot during an armed robbery at a 7-Eleven the day Killian graduated high school, some drugged-up delinquent who was so desperate for his next hit that he took out anyone who got in his way of securing the funds. And Liam, the idiot, he’d put up a fight, and got a bullet to the chest for his trouble. By the time emergency services had arrived, the druggie had fled and Liam was dead.

So Killian had enrolled in law enforcement, vowing to take down every single bloody cokehead if that’s what it took, hell-bent on vengeance. Who knew, maybe one of these kids that he’d flung in jail without a second thought was the one who’d done it. But he’d never know for sure, they’d never caught the bastard. The first time he’d arrested someone for possession, he’d felt for sure that he’d found his calling; he was making sure that what had happened to Liam wouldn’t happen to some other unsuspecting kid, maybe some time in jail would turn the kid good and get him clean. Maybe the hole inside Killian’s heart would begin to heal.

But after a while Killian just kept saying the same faces, the same bleary eyes and scarred arms and he knew that some people could never change. And it became just a day job, and the hole stayed the same.

Something out of the corner of Killian’s eye caught his attention, and he lifted his gaze enough. A scrawny little runt of a kid was heading towards him, face peppered with acne, pockets bulging just a little – but enough for Killian to recognise the signs. Slowly, he lowered his newspaper, and reached for the cold, shiny metal of his gun, and then –

“Freeze!”

He did still quite like that bit.

*

“Oh, God, I can smell the testosterone already.”

“Ruby, please.”

Emma Swan took a break from scrupulously applying her lip-gloss in the mirror to lean back on her chair and chastise her best friend. Ruby was rolling up her fishnets like she did every night, and, like she did every night, was already bitching about the night ahead.

“Come on, like you don’t know it’s going to be heaving tonight. Gold’s running a special again.”

Urgh. “Not 2 for 1 night again? I mean, I love you, but if I have to make out with you one more time-”

“No. Something like a free lap-dance if you buy a bottle of champagne.” Emma rolled her eyes.

“Is that all we’re worth? A crappy $15 dollar of champagne?” Though, if Emma really thought about it, that was high praise coming from Mr. Gold.

Neverland was the worst kind of strip club. The poles might be gold-plated, but the dancers were trashy and the clientele were even trashier. Guys of a certain age with protruding beer bellies who thought it was OK to touch first and pay later. Barely-legal boneheads who thought ‘dancer’ was synonymous with ‘hooker’ (although who was she kidding, sometimes the line was fuzzy even for her). And the owner, Mr. Gold, was more interested in the money his girls made than how happy they were doing it.

“So,” Ruby said, straightening up, apparently satisfied with her stockings, “Billy still hasn’t called.”

Emma turned back to her lip-gloss. “Well, do you really expect him to? You met him here, of all places.”  
  
Ruby shrugged. “I know,” she said, forlornly, “but I was really hoping that he would be different.”

Emma popped her lips and put her lip-gloss back in her bag before turning her attention back to her hair. “Nobody’s different.”  
  
“Even Neal?”

“Especially Neal.”

Ruby contemplated this while she inspected Emma’s reflection. “Well,” she said, “I guess they can’t all be Prince Charmings.”

Emma pulled a face. “Prince Charmings aren’t really my type.”

A hush fell suddenly over the backstage area, and Emma knew what that meant. Her boss had arrived. Creepy, creaky Mr. Gold, whose hair looked like it hadn’t had a good wash since Bush was President and whose nails could splinter a chalkboard with their long pointy ends. But all the insults in the world that Emma fired at him from inside her brain just made it all the more worse when he raked her with his cold eyes.

“More cleavage, Miss Swan.” One last withering look, and then he turned his attention to the next victim.

She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat.

*

Killian sank into his desk, relieved to have another shift done and dusted. The kid had barely put up a fight, practically crapping his pants at the very sight of a gun.

Just this last bit of paperwork, then he was free for the evening. Free to do what, God knows; since Milah had left he didn’t feel much like doing anything. It was looking like another night of take-out pizza and multiple beers before passing out in front of the TV around three in the morning –

“Jones.”

Killian looked up from his paperwork, pen still gripped tightly between his fingers, to see his partner Robin leaning on the edge of his desk. Killian took in his fresh civilian clothes.

“You done for the night too?” Robin shook his head.

“Nope. And neither are you. Didn’t you hear? Breakthrough in the Neverland case. They’re supposed to be getting a shitload in tonight, and _you,_ my friend, are going to help me bust them.” Robin was new, the excitement of stake-outs and not only having permission to visit the sleazier ends of town but actually _having to go there_ still driving him. Killian also wondered if the strip club element of tonight’s raid was also a draw – sure, it was shady, but he figured any break from Robin’s missus had to be a plus. Robin seemed crazy about Regina, but Killian had always found her to be a bit of a witch.

Killian dropped his pen and rubbed his temples. “My shift is over,” he said into his hands. “I was about to go home-”

“And do what?” Robin raised an eyebrow. He knew as well as Killian did that there was nothing waiting for him there. “Come on, now you’re pulling a double.”

*

Tonight Emma had gone for full-on slut chic. Visible suspenders, corset with eye-popping cleavage and a skirt so short it might as well have been a belt. It was stupid, but the trashier she felt the more she could slip into a different character, pretend this wasn’t her life, and fold away the night’s antics as soon as she took it all off.

It hadn’t always been like this. Once she’d had a promising life - moving to the big city was supposed to begin it all, not feel like a death sentence. But then two months into sophomore year at Boston U, Neal had knocked her up, and suddenly she had this scrawny squawking _thing_ to support as well as student loans to pay off and jobs didn’t grow on trees. Sure, Mom and Dad had taken Henry off her hands but they couldn’t afford her loans any more than she could, so when Neal had suggested that his dad had some vacancy…

Truth was, Emma had never really known much about Neal’s background. She’d been more interested in his rugged facial hair and the rumours surrounding him on campus. How cool he’d looked with a cigarette stuck to his lip. Nineteen was old enough to have a bad boy, Emma’d reasoned, and so she’d fell hard for his charm and even harder for his lies.

Emma wasn’t interested in the drugs Neal and his friends partook in. Neal was enough of a drug for her, and as bad as it got with him, the withdrawal was worse.

So she’d walked into Neverland with no real idea of what she was getting herself into. Mr Gold had looked her up and down and told her she had the job, if she could lose the last of the baby fat. That almost had Emma running for the door, until he said something about tips and perks and suddenly Emma had visions of enough money to get her and Neal a place, finally somewhere of their own, where she could get him clean and maybe they’d get Henry back and they’d be a happy family…

And when Mr. Gold had produced a contract, she’d been too enamoured with the picture inside her head to read much of it, and signed at the bottom. It was only later, after her first shift when some guy had put his hand up her skirt and another had practically ripped off her bra that she bothered to read it properly, and realised she was stuck. Neal had been less than sympathetic.

“You wanted a job, I got you a job. What more do you want?”

He was here tonight, with all his buddies, sharing a round at the bar that Emma doubted he’d paid for. He hung out at Neverland quite often; Emma liked to think it was so that he’d get to see her, even if they couldn’t talk much, but she knew the truth. Neverland, in all its skanky glory, was also a frequent stop for an underground drugs ring, and that was the real pull that Neal couldn’t resist.

“Hey, babe.” There was a voice in her ear as she bent down to pick up a few empty glasses. Business hadn’t really picked up yet; she’d had a few early customers but they were in the midst of a lull before the real trade began. Neal was standing before her, with a look in his eye that she recognised.

“I don’t have any money.” She saw Neal’s jaw clench.

“Bullshit,” he growled. “I saw that guy put that fifty in your bra.” Busted. Emma sighed, closing her eyes, before reaching into her top and producing the fifty. That was going to be food for the week. She hardly ever got a tip that big these days.

“Sweet.” He bestowed a kiss on her cheek that made her glow despite herself. “I’ll catch you later.”

Emma knew exactly where that money was going, and had no interest in watching it being spent. She turned around, intent on busying herself with a regular who had just walked through the door, but instead ran straight into Ruby.

“Hey,” she said, turning Emma back around. “Gold wants us to keep an eye on the two newbies at the bar. If we show enough skin, they might turn into regulars.” Emma followed Ruby’s eyeline to two guys grabbing a pint at the counter. In truth, they didn’t really look like the Neverland type. For starters, they were dressed completely differently from most of the guys in here – none of the shabby suits that the mid-life crisis guys worse, or the ripped jeans of the scruffy adolescents. They could have been part of Neal’s gang, except Emma had never seen them before in her life. Plus there was something just a little too respectable about them. No wonder Gold wanted them to keep an eye out. Guys like that could really add a bit of class to the place.

*

“I just think you should know,” Killian said through gritted teeth to Robin. “That I am extremely uncomfortable right now.”

“Oh, relax,” Robin said, cheerfully. “Black’s got a lookout stationed outside, we’ll hear as soon as they arrive, they’ll send the team in and it’ll all be over.” He looked at his glass. “Maybe we’ll actually be able to drink some of this beer then.” Killian rolled his eyes. He was glad of the loud, pulsating music; Robin hadn’t quite got the hang of the whole inconspicuous thing yet.

“Can I get you guys anything?” Killian swivelled around on his bar stool to see a pretty blonde standing before him. She had a tray in one hand, and the other perched on her hip, which was jutting out coquettishly. Based on her attire, she was a Neverland employee. _Oh, great,_ he thought. _Just what we need, to be attracting attention to ourselves._

“Sure,” Robin said eagerly, taking out his wallet. “He’ll take a dance.” Killian threw an alarmed look at his colleague as the beautiful girl put down her tray. _Fit in_ , Robin mouthed at him, and Killian knew he had no choice, or he’d blow their cover. He looked awkwardly at the hand the blonde was offering him.

“Come with me,” she smiled.

*

The guy was kind of cute. Emma wondered if this was his first time at a club, he looked so nervous. He took her hand and let himself be led away from the bar and his friend and into a chair in a corner of the club. She kind of wished Gold had forked out for some private rooms for this kind of thing; one pair of lustful eyes she could ignore, but a room full of them as she did her job…

“What’s your name?” she asked, as she stroked one finger down his mouth and over his Adam’s apple. She began playing with his tie, a trick she’d learned from Ruby. It bought her a bit of time, if nothing else.

“Liam,” he said, and a flash of an expression Emma didn’t recognise crossed his face. “I’m Liam,” he said again, steadily. “What’s yours?”

Well that was a first. Generally the guy never said anything at all, he would be too entranced by whatever body part she most had on display. She dropped his tie. “I’m Emma,” she said, softly. The guy inclined his head, slightly. Kind of like, _nice to meet you._

She shook her head roughly, back to business. Whether the guy was nice or not, he’d still paid for this, so she had better get on with it, or there’d be complaints. She hitched up her skirt (what there was of it, anyway), and climbed onto his lap. He squirmed slightly beneath her, another giveaway of his nervousness, and she wrapped a hand around his neck to calm him. Then she looked into his eyes.

Wow, they were blue. For a second she couldn’t move, as his eyes poured into hers. There was something so good about them, so honest and pure – a look she hadn’t seen in a long time, if ever. Something about them made her want to stay there forever, unmoving, like they’d keep her safe –

Suddenly, there was a commotion from the entrance to the club. Emma whirled around on Liam’s lap to see a swarm of guys in black rushing in, all carrying guns, and heading directly for the bar.

“Nobody move!”

And with that, the guy pushed himself out of his seat and pinned her to the ground.  


*

“Keep still,” he breathed, as the club erupted around them. Girls began screaming, and the shouting continued. “They’ve been told to use their guns if they have to.”  
  
Her felt her struggle beneath him at the realisation that he was in on it, that he was a cop too. He tightened his grip on her wrists, trying to ignore the memories of the penetrating green stare he’d faced only a few seconds ago. It was like for a second he’d forgotten why he was there, and that the only thing that mattered was protecting her, soothing the hurt that he’d seen in her face…

All of a sudden he was a little too aware of the heat pulsating from the body beneath him, the way her curves fit perfectly into the groove of his body, and he rolled off her, maintaining his grip on her wrist. He still couldn’t let her get caught in the crossfire.

They got to their feet, and he yanked her backwards so that they both flattened themselves against the wall. Killian had a clear view of what was going on – the team had seized the group of cronies from the other end of the bar, and were collecting the white powder evidence from off the counter top. Robin was leading one guy out in handcuffs, a guy of middling height, short, dark cropped hair and a scruffy attempt at a beard-

“Neal, no!”

The girl exploded out of Killian’s grip at the sight of the guy in handcuffs, so violently that he had been caught by surprise, and he leapt forward again to re-contain her. This time the girl was ready, and she shoved him back with unanticipated force before trying to land a fist in his face. He caught the blow in one hand, with the other fumbling in his back pocket for his own handcuffs.

“Sorry, Miss,” he said with a grimace, as the first cuff clicked around her bony arm. “I’m afraid you’re under arrest.”

*

_Freaking unbelievable._

Emma sat with her back against the cold stone wall of the cell, picking at her fingernails. Bad enough that Neverland had been raided – not such a surprise, Emma had always kind of figured that Neal and the rest of them had been too open about the blow they scored there every week – but she’d been powerless to do anything, thanks to that guy who’d trapped her on the floor. She couldn’t even make a run for it herself.

_Honest and pure, my ass._

That was probably what stung the most. She’d been foolish enough to think, just for a fleeting moment, that maybe this guy was different. What had she been telling Ruby, only an hour earlier? Nobody was different, she should know that most of all. Especially about some stranger that she’d only met ten seconds previously.

She threw her hands in her lap with a huff. What was going on with Neal and the others? She’d seen Neal in cuffs being led away by some cop, but what happened after that? She’d had her own problems after that, being arrested herself for ‘assaulting a police officer’. Whatever, she hadn’t even landed that punch. But that hadn’t stopped him from putting her in a police car and bringing her in the precinct to book her.

She had to have been in here for a few hours. When was she getting out? It had to be gone midnight by now, but damned if she was going to sleep here.

A tapping against the bars of her cell drew her attention. The cop who had arrested her was standing on the other side, a grim look on his face. Was that guilt she saw in his expression?

“I’m sorry,” he said, with a shrug. “But I had to. You couldn’t get in the middle of that, you’d have got hurt, those guys weren’t going to go quietly-”

“Whatever.” Emma cut him short, bluntly. “Can I go now?” The cop produced a key and Emma got to her feet.

“Not so fast,” he said, pausing. Emma threw her hands in the air indignantly.

“I have to escort you home. Precinct policy.” Emma doubted that very much, but she was itching to get out from behind these bars. The sooner she got out, the sooner she could find out what happened to Neal, and to Ruby…

“Fine. Now let me go.” The cop did as he was told, and the door to the cell swung open. He led her to her front desk to collect her things, not that there was very much that she’d had on her person. She’d given Neal all her money, and there were very few places on her… uniform that she could stash the essentials.

She was silent all the way out of the station, even as the cop opened up the door to his own car. Looked like he was off duty for the night now. She got in without a word, and did up her seatbelt mutely. Like she needed another thing for him to book her for.

“Sulking?” he asked, as he climbed in the other side and started the engine. The remnants of a British accent piqued her interest, and she wondered –

No. Radio silence was better.

At her continued silence, he laughed, and began backing out of his space. “You’re going to have to start talking soon,” he said. “Where to?” Emma ground her teeth. He was right. She’d have to give him some directions, or else she’d be in this freaking car forever.

“Take a right,” she muttered, grudgingly. The cop obeyed. For some reason, his sudden compliance made her even madder. “What is your deal? Is Liam even your real name?” Damn, she wasn’t supposed to let on that she’d remembered that.

He cocked an eyebrow. “No,” he admitted, his eyes on the road. “It’s my brother’s.” Emma snorted.

“And what does he think of you, I wonder, borrowing his name to lie to strippers?”

“Probably not a lot,” he said, turning to fix her with a hard stare. “Seeing as he’s dead.” Emma’s stomach dropped like it had suddenly turned to lead. _God._ Still, she wasn’t going to apologise. If anything, he should be saying sorry to her, pinning her to the floor like that, she could have _him_ done for assault like _that –_

“Left,” was all she said. The cop turned the wheel accordingly. “You can stop here.” He looked at her in confusion.

“Here?” He echoed. They were on a side road, with nothing but boarded up shops and a little yellow bug parked on the sidewalk. “You live here?”

“Yup.” She released her seatbelt and got out of the car. He did the same, following her steps towards the beat-up car, watching as she suddenly halted a few metres away. “Shit.”

“What?” he asked. She whirled around to face him, pissed off.

“My keys are in my bag, back at the club.”

Killian held up his own. “Back in mine, then,” he said. “And I’ll take you back to your actual house.”  
  
Emma launched a kick at the bug’s front tyre in frustration. “Don’t you get it, jackass? This _is_ my home.”

She watched as the cop looked from her, to the bug, and back again in disbelief. “You’re living in your _car_?” She shrugged, and turned her gaze back to the bug. If _only_ she could remember what Neal had taught her about breaking into a car… not that she could do it with the stupid cop still sniffing around.

“Yes. Now if you’d kindly leave me to it I have a car to break into.”

He crossed his arms. “Absolutely not. There is no way I’m letting you sleep in that car. If it’s even _yours_.” Oh, charming.

“You’re choosing _now_ to be chivalrous?”

“Yes. Come on, get back in.” Emma started back towards the car automatically, her curiosity stirred despite all the antagonism she felt towards this man.

“Why, where are we going?”

“Mine. You can stay at mine tonight.”

 

 


	2. Chapter Two

She was back to sulking.

Killian was actually a little amused by the girl sat across from him, her blonde hair falling over her face like she could shield herself from the world with it. She might have been dressed like a lady of the night (that’s what his mum had always called them), but there was a softness to her, even now, as she sat slumped as far away from him as possible without actually hanging out the window. Killian smiled to himself.

“Emma,” he said, and the girl was roused by the sound of her own name. “You can’t hate me for arresting you forever, you know.” The girl settled back into her slump and mumbled into the crook of her arm.

“I don’t hate you for arresting me.” Killian lifted an eyebrow in surprise.

“Oh no?”

“No. I hate you for not letting me sleep in my own freaking car.”

Killian rolled his eyes. “It’s going to get to four below tonight,” he said. “You’d freeze to death.”

“Only because I was _arrested_ before I could change back into normal clothes.” Killian’s grip on the wheel tightened as he struggled with his frustration. She was testing his patience.

“Fine. Next time I arrest you, I’ll leave you to freeze your bloody arse off.”

“ _Next time_?”

“You know what I mean!”

Maybe sulky silence was better. She seemed to be pushing his buttons as much as he was pushing hers. Some time without speaking might mean they made it to his place without killing each other first.

He didn’t fully know why he was doing this. The guys at the station would certainly frown on him taking a newly-released prisoner home. Then again, the officer she’d been arrested for assaulting had been him, so if there was anyone who was going to complain, it should be him.

But as soon as he’d clamped eyes on that car, he’d been reminded of the innocence he’d seen in her eyes, and the hurt, and the desperate desire to protect her reared its head again inside him. If he’d let her go, she would have gone looking for that lowlife scum the team had arrested tonight, and there was no way he could let her get tangled up in that again. She was better than that, she deserved more than that filthy junkie…

Killian shook his head. He didn’t even know this girl, how did he know what she was like? But as he stole another look at her, he realised that she had touched something inside him, something he hadn’t felt stir since he’d thrown that very first kid in jail all those years ago. Something that felt a little bit like hope.

The car came to a slow stop, and Killian switched off the engine before turning to Emma.

“We’re here, love.”

*

Turns out the guy had a pretty cool place. All exposed brick, an open fireplace, squashy sofas that looked like they’d swallow you whole if you sat down for a second. It was open-plan, the bedroom on a sort of platform off the living area, which was off the kitchen... Kind of reminded her of her parents’ place back home. Maybe this hadn’t been such a bad idea after all. She noticed the cop staring at her, as if searching for her approval. She shrugged.

“It’s OK, I guess.” That seemed to satisfy him.

“I’d offer you the bed, but I don’t have any clean sheets…” He busied himself in a laundry cupboard, piling blankets over his shoulder as he rummaged for a pillow. Emma sat down on the sofa, awkwardly.

“You know,” she said, conversationally, “I don’t even know your real name.” He stopped searching and turned to look her at her, surprised.

“Oh. It’s Killian.” _Killian_. Kind of suited him, those Celtic blue eyes. Sort of reminded her of a knight of the round table – dependable, trustworthy, honourable…

He handed her the blankets and pillow. “Thanks,” she muttered.

“Can I get you anything? Glass of water?” She shook her head. “OK.” He looked kind of awkward, like he didn’t know what to say or do next. Eventually, he settled for, “Goodnight then.” Emma nodded curtly, and shoved the pillow behind her head. The sofa faced towards the bedroom area, and she watched as Killian padded over and began to undress. Transfixed, she saw him lift his shirt over his head, and caught a glimpse of dark, curly chest hair –

Blushing, she rolled over to face the cushions instead.

*

Killian lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. He’d been trying to get to sleep for over an hour, to no avail. He couldn’t help thinking it had something to do with the blonde asleep on his sofa, only yards away from him. It had been a while since he had had to share the apartment with anyone, let alone anyone female.

He rolled onto his side; the blinking red numbers on his alarm clock telling him that another quarter hour had passed. This was impossible. Throwing back the covers, his swung his legs out of bed and got to his feet, before padding towards the kitchen, in search of a glass of water.

“Can’t sleep either, huh?”

No sooner had his hands clasped around a glass from inside the cupboard than he heard a voice behind him; the surprise made him loosen his grip and the glass hit the floor with a crash, sending shards everywhere.

He wheeled around to see Emma sat upright on the sofa, wide-eyed. “Oh God, I’m so sorry.” She hurried towards the pool of broken glass, murmuring further apologies. “God, I’m so sorry…” He followed her to the floor.

“It’s fine, really, it’s fine…” She ignored him, hastily picking up pieces of glass. “Emma, honestly. _Emma_.” Finally he seized her wrist to stop her, and she looked up at him in astonishment. Killian looked down at her tiny hand in his. He hadn’t expected her skin to be so warm, so soft…

“We’ll sort it in the morning,” he said, finally, and he led her back over to the sofa.

“I’m sorry,” she said, again, but he just shook his head. She grimaced awkwardly, and the silence stretched on and on while Killian searched desperately for something to say.

Finally he settled on, “So how does a person end up working at somewhere like Neverland, anyway?”

By the look on her face, he knew at once that this had been the wrong thing to say. Immediately she wrenched her wrist out of his grasp and looked away, as if incapable of even making eye-contact. Then he noticed the colouring on her cheeks. She was embarrassed.

“Look,” she said, eventually, “don’t get the wrong impression…”

Killian smirked. “The girl who assaulted me earlier this evening in a strip club doesn’t want me to get the wrong idea about her?”

This got her to look back in his direction. He noted with some satisfaction that her face was hot with indignation. The girl from the passenger seat was back. "It’s not like my dream career, OK?” She inhaled deeply, then sighed. “Things just have a way of working out weird. I have a kid to support, I got loans, rent’s not exactly cheap, you know?”

“Not even when you live in a yellow bug on the side of the road?” She glowered at him.

“Why do you think I have to do it? Got kicked out of my last three places for not making rent on time. Gold’s not exactly generous with the bonuses, I’m lucky if I make minimum wage some nights…” Killian felt bad for winding her up.

“I’m sorry,” he said, automatically taking her hand again. The contact had been instinctive, he hadn’t even noticed himself doing it until he felt the warmth of her skin against his again… “You have a child,” he said, softly. She smiled sadly.

“Yeah, a son,” she replied, and she looked down at their hands. “He… he lives with my parents. Single mom in the city, hardly a stable environment for a kid, you know? Not that Mom and Dad have any idea what I do for a living, it’d kill them. I had a real fairytale childhood, it’d break their hearts to see what I’ve become, it’s not like it’s their fault. And if they had any money of their own I’d be asking for their help, but I don’t want to put that kind of pressure on them, not when they’re already looking after Henry-” One solitary tear splashed onto Killian’s hand. She looked mortified. “Oh God, I’m sorry, I don’t ever cry, I don’t even know you…” She moved several inches away from him on the sofa and he missed her touch immediately.

“It’s OK,” he said, and he pulled a Kleenex from the box on the coffee table. She took it gratefully, and began to wipe her eyes. “Tell you what, is there anything I can get you? Some cocoa maybe?” She nodded.

“With cinnamon,” she added, as an afterthought.

So Killian set to work in the kitchen. He realised with a pang that he hadn’t had cocoa in a long time; Milah had never really been a fan. One of those green types. But he and Liam had loved it when they were kids, hiding out in their toy forts they’d take it in turns to get cocoa from the kitchen, creeping through the living room and across the hallway like it was some kind of covert mission that required the utmost discretion.

Smiling, he padded back towards the sofa with two steaming mugs. But Emma had fallen asleep; the features he had seen riddled with anguish only a few moments ago were now peacefully smooth, her rosebud lips pursed together gently and her delicate hands folded beneath her head. For a few seconds, he watched her sleep, touched somehow by the tranquillity in her expression, before setting the mugs down on the coffee table. He covered her with a blanket, and after a moment’s hesitation, bestowed a quick kiss on her forehead before heading to bed.

*

Sunlight pricked at Emma’s eyelids, and reluctantly, she stirred.

The first thing she became aware of is that she was lying horizontal – where was she? In the bug she could never get the seat all the way back, one of the many reasons why she never truly felt rested in the mornings. She opened her eyes a fraction, to see the fraying edge of a quilted blanket hugging her shoulders. This definitely wasn’t hers. What the hell was going on?

She sat up suddenly, and the sight of the apartment around her brought the previous night into focus. _Right. The cop._

_Oh God, the cop._

All of a sudden she remembered everything, in particular the crying jag she’d had on this sofa only a few hours earlier – what was she thinking? Emma never cried, not even when the urge was searing her eyes and the lump in her throat was too hard to swallow. It was just not something she did; she figured she’d grown out of it, like asthma.

But sat there, on that sofa, in the near darkness, with Killian’s strong hand on hers, she’d felt safe, something she hadn’t felt in a long time. More than that, she felt like she had wanted to confess all her secrets, and most importantly, like he’d keep them for her.

She rubbed her temple, frowning. This was crazy. She’d met the guy less than 24 hours ago – when he _arrested her!_ It had been a long day, she had probably just been tired, feeling vulnerable, and he was kind of cute, she’d give him that, not the first time she’d let pretty eyes fool her for a second or two…

She had to get out of here. She threw a look towards the bedroom and saw to her relief that Killian was still sleeping. Thank God. She might be able to escape without further humiliating herself. Then she would never have to see him again, and she could forget this whole thing ever happened…

Cautiously, she peeled the blanket off herself, and got to her feet. Oh God, it wasn’t going to be one of those creaky floors, was it? She felt like she was in one of those comedy films, the kind Neal liked to watch when he was high, like there was a banana peel on the floor just waiting to trip her up and add to her ordeal. She tested the wood gingerly with her foot. Silence. OK, good.

Slowly she made her way to the door. Should she leave a note?

No, she shouldn’t leave a note. _Don’t be ridiculous._

_He was kind of sweet last night, though._

_Of course he was. He was probably trying to get into your pants._

Emma shook her head to clear it of her inner monologue. And with one last look at the sleeping Killian, she left, closing the door behind her.

 

 


End file.
